


The Archer

by RubyStiff89



Category: Din Djarin - Fandom, Star Wars, Star Wars Original Trilogy, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: I wont add who else is in this story, I wrote this before the season finale AND IT SHOOOOOWS, keep it a surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:41:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28227816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyStiff89/pseuds/RubyStiff89
Summary: So I started writing this two weeks before the Season Finale of The Mandalorian and wasnt going to post it because the finale kinda screws up the plot of this story. However, I really like it and I like the Original Character I created so I'm posting it unfinished for you to enjoy objectively. I really hope we get to meet more Shock Troopers in Rangers of the Republic or some of the other spin-offs we're getting next year. Anyways hope you like it, let me know what you think :D
Kudos: 10





	The Archer

**Author's Note:**

> So I started writing this two weeks before the Season Finale of The Mandalorian and wasnt going to post it because the finale kinda screws up the plot of this story. However, I really like it and I like the Original Character I created so I'm posting it unfinished for you to enjoy objectively. I really hope we get to meet more Shock Troopers in Rangers of the Republic or some of the other spin-offs we're getting next year. Anyways hope you like it, let me know what you think :D

Din Djarin had a particular hatred for jungle planets.

Desert ones were fine, he wasn’t fussed on the cold, but jungle ones were unbearable under a layer of beskar and a flight suit. This one was Felucia- outer rim like most places he visited though closer to the trade route and possibly the home of another Jedi. Possibly. Ahsoka Tano was nice enough but refused to train Grogu and then after the events on Tython and what came next- Din Djarin wasn’t sure if he could keep looking for Jedi. Hadn’t the kid reached out through the… force? … and contacted his kind? Shouldn’t they be looking for him? How did any of this even work?

Pushing his way through the jungle, sweating buckets under his armour, Din reminded himself he had to take the kid to some Jedi. Any Jedi for kriff’s sake. He had abilities Din couldn’t help with. The Empire wanted him. Din was a bounty hunter so not exactly Dad-of-the-Parsec material. Its not that he wanted to give him up, the exact opposite truth be told and the events with Moff Gideon really cemented to him that this kid wouldn’t be safe until he was with his own kind. Din hoped. If Ahsoka was anything to go by, the Jedi would take good care of him. A huge beetle landed on the visor of Din’s helmet and he angrily swotted it away. He glanced down at the kid who was safely back in his carrier where he belonged. Or Man-bag, as Cara Dune like to call it.

Din paused in a clearing wanting to pull his helmet off and wipe the sweat that nearly gushed down his temples and soaked into the collar of his flight suit. He had the sinking feeling there were no Jedi on this planet. He has passed through the capital, Kway Teow and then one of the smaller towns Akira with no luck. Plenty of other Bounty Hunters, pirates and other lowlifes but no Jedi. Not even a Mandalorian covert which he secretly suspected might be on this planet. But then again what Mandos would want to live here, constantly drowning in their own sweat?

Din cast a gaze around the dense jungle of tangled vines, thick tree stumps and exotic fungi, deciding he didn’t like this place. Something about it made him-

As if the answer his suspicions the canopy above him suddenly erupted to life with yells as pirates burst from the canopy towards him on ziplines. Din ripped out his blaster and began firing, knocking two off their ziplines with a scream but there were more. The pirates opened fire, Din reflexively shoving the kid behind his back and returning the fire wishing like hell he had his pulse rifle for the fiftieth time this week.

By now the pirates had hit the ground, trading blaster fire with Din, the red pulses bouncing off his beskar armour as he backed up against a tree. There was at least dozen, if there weren’t more in the trees and Din suddenly had a really bad feeling about this. One tried to sneak up on his left but Din cooked him with his flame thrower. A lucky shot glanced past his knee making his groan loudly in pain as the heat from it ripped through his flight suit scorching the side of his leg. The pirates were closing in, Din unsure if they wanted him, his armour, the kid or all of the above. It was so hard to know why he was getting shot at these days. He took down another three but there was still eight. Din had flicked his wrist, arming the whistling birds when one of the pirates suddenly dropped with a guttural groan, falling forward with an arrow through his back. 

Even Din stared agape under the helmet, wondering who the hell used actual arrows these days but wasted no time using their distraction to take down more pirates, as two more arrows, deadly accurate took down the pirates until the last three fled into the jungle. Din fired after them and one fell, not from a blaster shot but by an arrow. And just as quick as they came, the jungle fell to silence again. Din stared cautiously around himself, the kid poking his head out of the bag and gurgling curiously. The archer was out there, somewhere but Din couldn’t see him. Reaching up he turned on the heat signature which was a mess in the jungle- a blur of reds, oranges and blues. Turning it back off, Din cautiously moved forward to wrench and arrow out to examined it. Wood shaft, Alusteel tips and feathers of a white bird. Din looked around again, slowly turning in the jungle that had begun to fill the silence with its own noise again.

“I owe you a thank you,” he offered, letting out the breath he was holding.

Still no answer. The kid ducked lower in his bag, Din still holding his blaster ready. He had no idea if the archer was a friend or a foe- someone greedy enough to take down pirates to have the bounty to themselves. Wouldn’t be the first time. Bounty Hunters couldn’t be trusted and he should know. The Alusteel was interesting, typically used in the lightweight but durable skin of Empire ships and appeared to be hand forged. Din looked down at the arrows and estimate by the angle they were lodged in the archer was somewhere to his right.

“Are you a Jedi?” he offered hopefully.

 _Do Jedi use arrows?_ He thought as the jungle still refused to answer. All the Jedi he had seen so far had lightsabres which made him desperately jealous because he didn’t have one. He had never used one but dang farrik he-

“I’m not a Jedi.”

Din snapped around; the voice was more to right that he anticipated but he still couldn’t see anyone. He tapped the heat signature again which had settled but still was a mess in the intense humidity. The kid had popped his head out of the bag again staring in the same direction as Din.

“I’m looking for a Jedi and was told there was one on this planet,” Din replied carefully.

“You’re a Mandalorian?”

The voice was female but definitely not girly with a gravelly accent, Jakku maybe. “Yes.”

Din wasn’t prepared for the shape to step out of the jungle barely ten meters away from him but with the mottled green suit she, definitely a she, was perfectly camouflaged. Mando took in the large bow held in her right hand, the braces over her muscular forearms, the tall boots and the quill of arrows on her broad hips. Din put his blaster back in its holster but didn’t buckle it, he didn’t think she was a threat but she was still in easy firing range. They regarded each other in the clearing with a degree of suspicion. 

“You’re an excellent shot,” Din added, not used to being the one to have to prompt conversation when she didn’t answer.

The large, tinted goggles reminded him of the damn insects in this jungle and between it and the green mottled neck gaiter pulled up over her nose, Din had no idea what she looked like. Female, a fraction shorter than him and solidly built. Absently she reminded him of Cara Dune but he pushed her out of his head, that woman was going to be the death of him one day without being anywhere near him.

“Did you come on the ship that’s back there?” she asks, motioning in the direction he parked.

Din nods with a pang in his chest reminding him its not the Razor Crest. “I need off this planet.” She demands more than asks.

“I’m not a taxi service,” Din replies then bites his tongue remembering she just helped save his neck.

She seems rightfully offended and looks down at the bodies and then back at him. Din sighs. “I’m grateful but I don’t make a habit of ferrying people around. I’m Guild.”

“So he’s your co-pilot then?” she points at Grogu dryly.

Din looks at Grogu who looks up at him and then back at the Archer before stepping around the nearest body to leave. Din had a micro-second to register the whistle of the arrow and duck but clearly, she was aiming at the tree next to him. She lowers the bow.

“I don’t repeat myself.”

Thoroughly annoyed now Din looks back at her. Despite himself, he’s impressed. She shot that arrow without moving a muscle, still stood in the exact same spot with such swiftness that he didn’t hear her move until he was nearly skewered. “Neither do I.”

“You don’t have to take me far, Yavin 4,” she steps forward.

“Whats on Yavin 4?”

“Revenge.”

Din Djarin sighed loudly. Revenge. As if the galaxy didn’t have bigger issues. She seems to sense his frustration. “There are no Jedi on this planet, I know I’ve been stuck here long enough and know who and what’s here. You might as well take me to Yavin and then continue looking for your Jedi elsewhere.”

Din resisted the urge to swear, feeling like the swamps of Dagobah under his suit. He should have known this planet was a dead end. The new ships radar picked up a boulder formation that reminded him of the temple on Tyhton, that’s why he came looking. He looked back at the archer and nodded.

“Fine. Yavin 4.”

“I need to get my stuff,” she replies, the unmistakeable excitement suddenly perks up her voice.

Another loud, frustrated sigh escapes Din. “My ship is east, around five kilometres.”

“And my hideout is three kilometres this way. Come on.”

Din watches her walk off and looks down at the kid who gurgles happily. Shaking his head in disgust he follows her into the jungle wondering what his life has become. It used to be so straightforward. The Empire fell, he went after rich idiots who skipped bail, tried not to die, brought tracking fobs back to Greef Karga, never got paid enough for his time…. And then the kid happened. With her back to him, Din reaches down and gently scratches the kid’s ears who coos happily. The complications and diversions got on his nerves, but he wouldn’t trade it for a second.

From behind Din has a chance to take in more of the mystery archer as she leads him nimbly through the jungle, hopping over logs and boulders. She’s just fractionally shorter than him with wide shoulders that a knee-length green and black coat hangs from meeting the tall, lace up boots. He can see the handle of a dagger poking out of her boots on the left side as well as he realises, she’s a lefty. No blaster or any sign of other weapons, just a bow an arrow, a weapon he’s read about but never seen in action. She has dark brown, if not black hair that’s plaited into intricate twists on the back of her head. He begins to wonder how long she’s been stuck here and how she came to be here in the first place when they arrive at her hideout- the wreckage of a CR25 Troop carrier better known as Republic Dropship.

“That’s a dropship,” Din says out loud as she pulls open the side door with difficulty.

She doesn’t answer ducking inside immediately and Din, unable to resist having a look inside one follows her. It clearly crashed here and she’s cleaned it out making it reasonably comfortable. She pushes her goggles up her head revealing the top half of her face- dark brown eyes that glance at him fleetingly and perfectly arched eyebrows. Her skin is darker than he expected too, virtually the same shade as Din not that many people knew that.

“Corellian industries, CR25 Troop Carrier used by both the Republic and Clone Armies. Hyperdrive, shields and two turbolaser canons. This one has been a bit dead for awhile though,” she prattles off dutifully.

But Din isn’t listening. There, propped in the corner is his Amban phase-pulse blaster. Obviously its not, his got blown to a million pieces on the Razor Crest that day. He looks around at the Archer whose still stuffing her minimal possessions in a sack.

“Where did you get that?”

“Get what?” she looks around and follows his gaze. “Scavenged it off someone who came through here. Doesn’t work though.”

“Consider it payment for transporting you.”

Din is halfway across the floor but she has blocked his path. “Why? What does it do?”

“It’s a sniper rifle,” he partially lied.

Close up her eyes are dark and unreadable. “Why do you want it? I told you it doesn’t work.”

“I can fix it.”

She regards him for a few more moments before shrugging. “Whatever. I couldn’t get it to work so I doubt you will.”

Din gladly takes hold its barrel as she steps out the door, feeling all kinds of things to finally have one of these in his possession again. They were rare and illegal, he stopped wearing the shells for them ages ago but still had a box of them somewhere on the ship. He can’t immediately see how its broken and even if this archer has been out here for ages, he can’t believe she didn’t at least try to repair it instead favouring an ancient weapon. Din hurries out the door after her, feeling a spring in his step he hasn’t felt for a while. Maybe this diversion will actually be worth his while.

They make it back to his ship an hour later, the sun starting to set through the trees. Din was glad she obviously led them on a shorter route than he took coming into the jungle, he didn’t want to be out in the jungle at night. He didn’t know what creatures lurked in this jungle but he didn’t want to find out either, eager to be off this damn planet. Din heads up into the cockpit and seats the kid in the co-pilots chair as the archer settles in the seat behind him.

“He’s a little short to reach the buttons isn’t he,” she observes.

Din doesn’t answer and begins the take off sequence. A few moments later they are lifting off the ground, the landing gear tucking into the ships hull with a dull thud as the ship rises above the trees. It takes a few minutes to get out of the planet’s atmosphere before he punches in the coordinates for Yavin and pulls back on the hyperdrive. There’s a pause as the engines revved up and then it feels like all Din’s organs are being sucked backwards against his armour plates as the ship makes the jump. It won’t take long to reach Yavin 4 which is good because Din is eager to get her off his ship and on to his next potential Jedi lead. Its not that he doesn’t trust her, he just wants a shower and doesn’t trust her alone with Grogu.

Over his shoulder he hears a shuffle of fabric as she shrugs out of her coat. Din doesn’t look back, finally taking a moment to look at his knee that got shot. Its not bad, more of a bad burn than anything but ripped a hole in his suit which he’ll have to patch. Lucky shot really, between two plates of armour.

“Why do you want to find a Jedi? I thought your kind and the Jedi didn’t get on?” she asks suddenly.

“Business.”

“Well good luck with your business, most of the Jedi were killed off at the end of the Clone wars. I think they’re rarer than Mandalorians,” she replies.

Din doesn’t answer straightaway. He wants to go downstairs and begin pulling apart the rifle to figure out what’s wrong with it but makes himself wait until she’s left. Which prompts the question of how long she had been stuck on Felucia.

“Four years, four months and six days,” she replies promptly.

Din is vaguely amused at how much she must hate it to be keeping track. He turns to make a comment on that but stops frozen. The archer is sat with her sack between her feet and coat across her lap revealing a sleeveless, fitted top which shows off her muscular arms bearing stripes. Rebellion stripes like Cara Dune’s. He realises she’s staring at him narrowly and clears his throat.

“You’re a dropper for the Rebellion.”

“Was. Yeah. You’ve got good eyes,” she’s still staring at him narrowly.

“I’ve seen those stripes before. That explains why you’re such an efficient warrior,” he says genuinely.

Her face relaxes a little. “Not good enough to not get stranded in that backwater.”

Din hesitates and then decides to ask the obvious. “Are you from Alderaan.”

“Alderaan? No. Corellia. What made you think Alderaan?” she seems surprised.

“The plaits,” Din says quickly, turning back to the dash. He idly stabs a couple of buttons, trying to push her out of his head. “How’d you end up in Felucia then?”

She settles deeper into her chair for a moment. “Like a lot of my kind when the war ended, we tried to make money anyway we could that didn’t involve babysitting politicians. I became a merc for the wrong people and it backfired. They dumped me on that planet and left me to rot.”

Din knows there’s much more to that story but doesn’t push her. Corellia. He knows enough about that particular hell hole and the people who manage to get off it to figure there’d be a story in that too. He notes too that despite getting comfortable in her seat, the neck gaiter still hasn’t com down, still rolled firmly above her nose revealing just her dark eyes. In the jungle it made sense, the gaiter would keep the bugs out of your nose and mouth but she still hadn’t taken it off or rolled it down. Din checks a few gauges on the ship, not used to it running perfectly, amused that both Cara Dune and this archer bailed out of the army the second the war turned into a babysitting service. In saying that, what he had seen of the New Republic, he’d probably do the same in their shoes.

“So what is he?” she asks, looking across at Grogu whose actually dozed off for once.

Din looks over his other shoulder at Grogu and smiles unseen under the helmet as his ears rise and fall softly as he sleeps. “A foundling.”

“A force sensitive one?”

Din doesn’t answer and she looks at the back of his helmet levelly. “You’re a Mandalorian with a small green… thing… looking for a Jedi. Don’t have to be a genius to figure that out.”

“I’m trying to find a Jedi who’ll take him on as an apprentice. I’ve found one so far who wouldn’t take him on. So, I’m going to keep looking,” Din answers eventually.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Din knows what she’s asking but doesn’t want to explain why to a perfect stranger whose name he dosnt know.

“Why don’t you just keep him? He seems pretty happy in the co-pilots chair,” she says with an expressive gesture.

“I’m a Bounty Hunter, this is no life for a kid and the Empire is after him for his abilities. He needs to be safe and trained,” Din answers reflexively the reasons he keeps telling himself.

“You just took down a dozen pirates mostly without my help and you’ve got a fast, secure ship. I don’t think he’s a risk of being taken from you.”

Din dosnt answer but unwittingly his mind plays back the moment the Dark Troopers snatched him off the rock and flew up into the sky with him. That feeling of horror, panic and… helplessness that engulfed him. Din hated the feeling of helplessness, it’s what drove him to be so good at his job. Being helpless reminded him of the day he lost his parents and he never wanted to feel that again. If only that were true, that Grogu was safest with him. The longer he took to find Jedi, the greater his risk of the kid being taken again, perhaps even permanently this time. He only just survived the last rescue mission and the one before that. He didn’t know how many times he could keep doing this.

“He needs the Jedi, not me,” Din answers eventually.

Mercifully she doesn’t argue the point. The ship pops out of hyperdrive in view of Yavin 4, another jungle looking planet. “Where am I taking you?”

“Massassi Valley.”

Din finds the coordinates on the other side of the planet and begins to skim over the surface of the planet hoping its not as humid as Felucia. On the other side of the planet, he drops into the atmosphere and slows for descent, skimming across the tree tops basking in the afternoon sun that hasn’t set yet towards a settlement. Its an unguarded collection of houses surrounded by forest with a town square and market that reminds him a little of Sorgan. Perhaps a little more built up and civilised than Sorgan. Din turns the ship around so the rear door is facing town and settles the ship on the ground which wakes the kid up. Grogu looks around himself, cooing in the interest as Din turns everything off and his passenger stands to pull her coat on.

“Thanks.”

And with that she’s out the door and a few moments later his dash lights up indicating she’s dropping the rear tailgate. Din shakes his head and looks out at the town. It looks safe enough at least to spend a day or two to regroup and plan where to go next. Din looks around at Grogu who holds his arms out and sighs.

“Yeah alright. A couple of days here can’t hurt.”

Din picks up the kid and tucks him into his carrier which he slings over his shoulder before heading down into the cargo bay. The passenger is long gone but has left the door open which Din grumbles about. He pauses to pick up the pulse rifle and examine it again. The scope needs readjusting which he pulls off and sets aside before examining the rest of it. He eventually finds the loading mechanism is jammed, full of rust and the electrics are totally fried. Din wonders how it happened before putting it away with his other weapons. Fixable but he’ll have to visit a Mandalorian armourer to forge a new loading mechanism for him. The electrics he can fix himself easily enough but will need materials. Closing the ship up behind him, Din heads off into town with the kid looking around himself in wide eyed wonder.

The market place is too legit to have anything Din could use but stocks up on food for him and the kid whose going through a fussy stage when it comes to dinner time. He catches more than a few curious, even suspicious glances his way which indicates this place doesn’t get many visitors. Perfect then to hide out in for a few days. It makes him wonder who in this backwater crossed the Archer for her to be so hellbent on revenge. Din is paying for his goods to a vendor who looks nervous to be serving him when Din becomes aware of a man stood at his elbow examining the vegetables on offer.

“Nice armour,” he comments.

Din doesn’t answer, nods his thanks and turns to leave. “Where are you staying stranger?” the man calls after Din.

Din stops and looks back. The man would be in his late forties, handsome despite the salt and pepper beard and wavy hair. He’s dressed like a farmer so is obviously doing the small-town thing and making sure strangers are cared for. Which is a nice change, Din muses.

“My ship.”

“I have more than enough room for you and your friend,” he motions at Grogu. “Please, I’m sure your ship is comfortable but at least stay with us tonight before you go on your way.”

Din eyes him and doesn’t answer straight away trying to decide if he’s ever seen this man before or anything about him that would suggest a threat. The farmer tilts his head and smiles. “Where are my manners, I’m Kes Dameron.”

“Thank you, Kes. I am only restocking so wasn’t going to hang around long,” Din hesitates and then for reasons he can’t label decides to agree. “If I am not imposing?”

Kes smiles broadly, wrinkling his tanned face. “Not at all. Me and the boy would like the company and my kid would love to meet a Mandalorian.”

Din follows Kes through the marketplace and out on the edge of town where they approach a high, stucco wall with wooden double gates and a tree overhanging the wall that he had never seen before. In the bag, Grogu looks up at the tree and coos loudly. The breeze catches the leaves that flutter softly, almost melodically. Din steps through the gateway behind Kes, glancing down and noting the door handle that’s shaped like the Resistance crest.

“Are you Resistance?” Din asks.

Kes looks back over his shoulder and grins broadly. “Retired but yes. Fought the battle of Endor, saw the fall of the Empire and then settled here.”

Din thinks about the Empire cruiser that took Grogu. “You haven’t been off the planet much have you?”

“No why?”

“No reason,” Din grimaces, glad the other man can’t see his face.

The house is a simple and open plan made from sandy coloured stucco is built around a paved courtyard and at its centre is the tree that could be seen from outside. Its an unusual tree, one that Din has never seen before with a gnarled, twisting trunk and crooked branches that overhang the courtyard with loose orange leaves and clusters of white blooms that hang almost like grapes. Grogu gurgles out an attempt at a word, he’s been doing that bit lately, like he knows what he wants to say but can’t quite legibly get it out. Kes has walked around the other side of the trunk when he suddenly lets out a loud and furious expletive.

“POE DAMERON! POE! WHERE ARE YOU? DID YOU DO THIS?!” he rages storming around the side of the tree.

Din follows in amusement, finding two pod-racer engines on their side at the base of the tree hooked up to a koyo picker and the trunk is blackened and burnt like it had caught alight. It takes no imagination to guess what happened, someone has tried to speed up koyo picking and poorly wired something which caught alight. Din turns as a teenager erupts from the house, soot up his face and covering most of his shirt.

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!”

“WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU EVEN DOING? I TOLD YOU THAT ENGINE WAS FRIED!” Kes yells at his son who looks scared but is trying to defend himself. “You know how rare and valuable that tree is!”

“It was an accident! I was trying to speed up the koyo picking this season!” Poe yells back.

“It dosnt need speeding up for kriffs sake! You nearly burnt down the Uneti Tree!” Kes yells but Poe has spotted Din and is pointing at him open mouthed.

“Who’s that?!”

“I’ve told you this tree is special a thousand times! It’s from Ach-To the site of the Jedi Library-“ Kes continues furiously.

“Are you a Mandalorian?” Poe asks excitedly the same time Din says “What Jedi Library?”

Kes rubs his face frustratedly, glancing between his pre-teen son and the Mandalorian. “The tree was grown from a twig broken off the tree growing in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant but was originally from Ach-To. Don’t change the subject Poe, if this tree dies its on you.”

Din glances down realising Grogu is wriggling furiously in the bag wanting out and extracts him from his bag. Grogu immediately waddles past Poe to the tree, resting his hands on the trunk and closing his eyes. In the still air, the leaves begin to flutter and whisper as if thousands of soft, barely audible voices all began speaking at once. The whispering stops and the branches creak in the unseen breeze, cascading their white blossoms onto the sandstone paving in a swirling, instant blizzard. Poe and Kes stare open mouthed as a blossom lands on Grogu’s head who sits down with a flop, gurgling happily. A blossom lands on the back of Din’s hand that’s folded across his chest. Carefully he turns it over in his gloved hand, admiring the delicate five leaf, snow white bloom. In a matter of seconds, it looks like a snowstorm has dropped a load of fresh snow on the courtyard as Poe brushes the blossoms from his hair.

“He’s force sensitive,” Kes murmurs in amazement.

“Yes.”

Kes finally looks back at Din, stepping forward. “That tree, like the rest of its kind has a strong attachment to the force. Its never blossomed until this week, I didn’t even know they flowered and I wondered if it meant a Jedi was in the vicinity. I guess so.”

“He’s not Jedi, I’m trying to find a Jedi to take him on as a pupil,” Din answers.

Kes pulls a face and sighs loudly. “Maybe I can help with that. Maybe. Come inside. Let’s get you two settled.”

The house is simple, loosely furnished and definitely a bachelor’s pad by the speeder bike in the lounge room that’s in pieces. Kes explains when Poe disappears outside that they lost his mother a couple of years ago to illness. Both had been top level in the Resistance and chose to settle on Yavin to raise Poe. Din quietly expressed his condolences at loosing Poe’s mother who he decided must have been beautiful in her own right as Poe, while a little gawky at this stage has the makings of a good-looking kid.

“Wants to be a pilot too,” Kes shakes his head. “I don’t mind him becoming a pilot for the New Republic, I just know it won’t be enough excitement for him. He’ll end up doing something dangerous for sure.”

Grogu has left them again, Din managed to get him inside as Kes shows them to the spare bedroom but now they are back on the patio, the kid has waddled back over to the tree again. Din watches as he sits looking up at it, gurgling and cooing gently. He seems at peace somehow with the tree.

Kes pours himself a spotchka and settles back in the chair having offered Din one who shakes his head. He hates the stuff and the obvious helmet issue. He spent weeks refusing the stuff on Sorgan, grateful the creed preventing anyone from being too insistent about him having some. The bottles he go given as gifts for getting rid of the AT-ST were sold to Greef Karga. Cara Dune on the other hand loved the briny taste and drank litres of the stuff.

“Tell me about the Jedi,” Din prompts, torn between wanting to enjoy the silence of the night but also wanting to know what Kes knew.

Kes sighs, leaning forward and placing his cup on the coffee table between them.

“While working for the resistance I was under Princess Leia Organa, daughter of Bail Organa the former Viceroy of Alderaan before it got vaporised by the Death Star. She had a twin brother Luke, who was a Jedi Knight. I think Leia was force-sensitive herself but politics was more her schtick. She would know things, see things coming that didn’t obey the laws of the universe. I don’t really know how any of that stuff works but I think she chose to supress it, do more from the politics side of things which last I heard is what she’s trying to in the New Republic. I don’t know where Luke is these days, but he’s your best bet at finding a Jedi to take on Grogu,” Kes explained.

“Luke Organa?” Din asks.

Kes shakes his head. “Luke Skywalker.”

Din looks at him. “You said twins?”

“Raised separately, split up soon after birth. Luke went to his uncle who was a farmer on Tatoonie and Leia went to Bail Organa, a family friend from what I was told on Alderaan.”

Din stifles a laugh. “One gets to be royalty and the other gets sent to that skug-hole.”

Kes chuckles as well. “Hardly seems fair right?”

The two men settle in silence for a while as Grogu continues to sit at the foot of the tree cooing to himself. Luke Skywalker. Not for the first time one of these weird diversions that seems frustrating has turned out in his advantage. At least he now has a name.

“Any ideas where I can find this Luke Skywalker?”

Kes shakes his head. “No sorry. War ended on Endor and everyone went their own ways. I only know Leia is in politics because I read the news. Wouldn’t have the first idea where Luke is. Probably doing Jedi stuff on some Outer Rim planet.”

“He hasn’t gone back to Tatoonie, I think I would know if he had,” Din murmurs more to himself than anything.

Kes nods. “I would highly doubt he’s gone back there. Coruscant has become a hot bed of crime and lawlessness so I think you can scratch that off.”

“I’ve just come from Felucia and there was nothing there. Don’t think there’s anything on Tython either.”

“Ach-To maybe?” Kes pours himself another spotchka with a shrug. “If you can find Leia or Han they might be able to tell you.”

“Han?” Din asks.

“Han Solo, former spice runner turned Resistance General whose her husband.”

“The princess married a spice runner?” Din asks curiously. He’s seen some weird matches in cantina’s he’d rather forget but a princess of a formerly very respectable planet shaking up with a spice runner is a new one. He assumed they were both human which made it slightly less weird.

Kes nods. “One of the best pilots I know. Gets around in a white Corellian freighter and knowing Han, domesticity,” Kes stumbles over the words a couple of times, “wouldn’t be his thing so has probably gone back to his old trade.”

Din doesn’t answer but mentally files all the information. Luke Skywalker. Han Solo. Leia Organa-Solo. White Corellian freighter. Din begins to idly wonder if he should go looking at some spice depots in a hope of running into this Han Solo. He shouldn’t take the kid near those places but that was becoming an ongoing theme. Going anywhere near The Interior even in his new ship wasn’t a great idea so he wasn’t likely to run into the Princess but perhaps her husband the spice runner was a better option. From Yavin he could cut across into The Slice, past Kashyyyk, avoiding Hutt territory-

“I wouldn’t hold your breath about Luke taking him on as a pupil though,” Kes broke into Din’s thoughts.

Din groaned internally. There’s another thing that was becoming a habit. “Why not?”

“What do you know about the Jedi Purge?” Kes asks, picking up his spotchka again.

Din shrugs loosely. Kes nods and drains his glass setting it down on the table. “The Jedi are what stood between the Empire and power. Their leader, Palpatine was a Sith, which is the opposite of the Jedi. So same powers, just evil. When he rose to power, he orchestrated a purge that had the clones turn on the Jedi across the galaxy and kill them all within a matter of days. Only a few survived. Because of that and Sith hunting the Jedi who survived, they went into hiding and for safety reasons stay apart from one another usually. There used to be a Jedi Temple in Corsucant but it was razed to ground which is why that tree my idiot son tried to torch is so special. Its not just a Jedi tree, it represents light. And hope. I’m very grateful Leia gave me a twig to propagate because like the Jedi, there aren’t many left which is why we have to protect the few that are left.”

Din doesn’t meet Kes’s keen gaze, knowing he doesn’t just mean the tree. Grogu who’s still sat at the foot of the tree but as if sensing Din was thinking about him looks back, tilting his head and blinking. Ahsoka told him Grogu came from Coruscant, perhaps his sat at the foot of the tree that this one was grafted from. It amazed him that Grogu survived all of that, the fall of democracy, the rise of the Empire, the Jedi purge, the fall of the Empire and the current uncertain times… against all odds. It reaffirmed to him how special this kid was and how he needed to get him taken care of properly. A Bounty Hunter was not a fit father, he needed Jedi, he needed stability and-

“Its far from my business friend, but maybe your little one is safest with you,” Kes breaks into Din’s thoughts.

Din Djarin sighs deeply. “He’s not. Everywhere we go, he gets hunted.”

“He’ll be hunted with the Jedi, he’ll be hunted with you, this kid won’t know peace until he can take care of himself and even then,” Kes responds pragmatically.

Din finds himself recounting to Kes how Moff Gideon’s dark troopers took Grogu from Tython and the lengths Din and his friends took to get him back. Kes listens quietly and towards the end of the story Grogu has waddled back across the courtyard and climbs onto Din’s boot. Din reaches down and scoops him up, settling him on his lap. Grogu looks up at Din with big liquid eyes, as if he knows Din is hurting, gurgling gently and clasping Din’s gloved thumb in his tiny hand.

“You say he reached out through the force? On Tython?” Kes asks.

“Blue lights and force field that knocked me on my ass when I tried to grab him,” Din nods.

Din nods and Kes leans back scratching his chin watching them for a few moments. “I wish I knew how this stuff worked so I could help you,” Kes murmurs eventually.

“Me too,” Din replies.

Kes is quiet for a bit longer. “If the Force works the way I think it does, then the Jedi will find you.”

“I can’t stay still; we’ve been hunted everywhere we go.”

Kes nods. “I understand. But if being in the Resistance taught me anything, hope comes from the last place you often expect it to.”

The two men turn in for the night soon after, Poe long since sent to bed though Din passes his room and hears the unmistakable crackle of the Resistance radio frequency being played low from Poe’s room. Din shakes his head. That kid is going to be a menace in a few short years. And his father is right, chasing Bounty Hunters who don’t have the appropriate transponder wouldn’t be remotely enough excitement for him. He’s definitely going to end up in mischief.

Din settles the kid on his bed and ducks into the adjoining guest bathroom to shower. He takes his time, admittedly relishing the comfortable bathroom, shaving the pathetic attempt at facial hair that scrawls across his jawline and tidying up his moustache. Dressed in just a pair of shorts, Din ducks back into the bedroom, checks the door is locked and the curtains are drawn tightly before crawling under the sheets. Grogu is already asleep, on top of the covers curled up against one of the pillows. Din puts his blaster on the bed side table, before rolling over and tucking the kid in who mumbles in his sleep. Din watches him sleep for a few moments, his massive green ears flopping over his face before Din reaches over and flicks the light out, falling asleep almost instantly.

Din wakes before dawn, the room still dark and silent aside from Grogu whose snoring a few centimetres from his face with one of his clawed feet resting on Din’s forehead. Din carefully extracts himself and rolls onto his back staring at the ceiling. Unwittingly, his brain begins to play back snippets of last nights conversation before firmly telling himself this kid needs to go to the Jedi for the fifty-thousandth time. And as much as he would like to stay here with Kes and Poe for days, weeks even, so comfortable he felt in their company he knew they had to get moving, today. If he stayed another day it would become a week and then a month and the Empire would find them. For their safety, and the safety of everyone around them they had to keep moving.

He didn’t want to though. Watching Kes and Poe yesterday reminded him of how he felt on Sorgan though less conflicted. It wasn’t really Sorgan he wanted to stay in, he recognized a possible normal life for his kid and he had a mild attraction to Omera… that is until she tried to take off his helmet. Funny how one little thing can ruin something that could have been nice. But here among the koyo groves, the bachelor’s pad and that mystical tree- Din felt a lot more settled than he had in a while. Maybe one day he’d come back here and settle, take off the helmet and retire. Maybe. If he didn’t get killed first.

Din quietly rolls out of bed feeling the stiffness in his middle-aged joints. One day he’ll have to retire but only when he knows the kid is safe, whatever that means. He takes his time getting back into his flight suit and armour, piece by piece, religiously checking each piece for damage and wear. Last is always the helmet, he holds it in his hands staring down at the shiny beskar surface. He can just make out his reflection, the lines around his eyes and sighs deeply before dropping it on his head. The last few months have aged and changed him beyond belief. Down the other end of the house, he hears movement and realises someone is up.

To his surprise its Poe not his father who startles when he realises there’s a Mandalorian in full armour watching him raid the fridge with the ferocity that belongs only to teenage boys. “You’re up early,” Din observes.

Poe stuffs a heel on bread in his mouth and nods. “I have to get started on the koyo harvest. I’m grounded for two weeks for nearly burning down the tree so no pilot training and I have to be out there before he is and do the picking by hand,” he replies through mouthfuls.

“Remember for next time; blue wires don’t go where red wires do.”

Poe grins. “I’ve never met a Mandalorian before. Dad has told me stories. Is your armour beskar?”

Din nods as Poe’s eyes scan greedily over the armour do. He points out a few different things asking what they do which Din patiently explains his grappling hook, flamethrower, the whistling birds and other things. Poe listens wide eyed and starts begging for war stories about Din’s Bounty Hunting career that’s thankfully cut short by Kes showing up.

“You’re supposed to be out there already,” Kes glares at Poe who looks apologetic.

“Sorry. See you tonight,” he nods at Din who shakes his head.

“We’ll be gone by then sorry,” Din replies.

“You don’t have to leave in such a hurry?” Kes looks around from the pantry, looking a little hurt. “I hope you were comfortable last night.”

“Too comfortable. If I stay another day, it’ll be a week then a month,” Din replies honestly.

“And that’s a bad thing?” Kes grins teasingly.

“Another day please? I wanna hear some stories?” Poe, whose still in the doorway pleads.

“Get to work Poe Dameron!” his father hisses at him.

Poe glares sulkily and then mumbles his goodbyes. A few moments later they hear the speeder bike start up as he leaves the garage at the back of the house and the sound trails off into the koyo grove. Kes shakes his head. “Sure you don’t want another kid? That one can hold a blaster if that’s any temptation?”

“No thanks.”

“Well, I’m sorry you’re not staying longer, but let me cook you breakfast and send you on your way,” Kes replies genuinely.

“Thank you. That’s very kind.”

Kes gets to work cooking bacon, eggs, bread and a relish made from koyo. Din accepts the plate loaded high with food and disappears back down the hallway to eat it in his room with Grogu who wakes the instant he smells food. Din holds the plate between them as Grogu greedily eats off the plate, Din wondering who eats more when they want to- Poe or this womp rat? He then finds himself imagining trying to stock the ship with enough food for a teenage boy, Grogu and himself and shudders. He’d need a much bigger ship for that kind of undertaking.

Din returns into the kitchen twenty minutes later, Grogu in his carrier and an empty plate in hand. Kes smiles at the empty plate and the motions across the table. Sat in a shallow, teal coloured ceramic pot is a twig- unmistakeably from the tree outside by its brown bark and orangey leaves.

“I cut you a twig from the tree. Don’t over water it and only repot it when its rootbound into a slightly larger pot. When you settle plant it in deep soil,” Kes instructs.

“Thank you,” is all Din could say, touched that Kes would part with such a special tree but also the meaning behind it. Settle. He had no idea what that word even meant.

The world is just waking up as Din lets himself out into the street carrying the pot plant in one hand and a bag of koyo in the other, eager for no one to see a suited up Mando carrying a pot plant. My life just gets weirder and weirder, he thinks hurrying through the town square. He only passes a handful of people who spare him a curious gaze which he ignores, reaching his ship in record time. Din lets himself into the ship, putting the pot plant down safely near his bunk, nestling it between a heavy box of ammo and-

Din senses movement before he sees it, whipping around and pulling his blaster out. “Relax its just me,” the Archer is already halfway up the ramp. “I need off this planet.”

Din doesn’t lower his blaster. “Not my problem.”

She stops, tilting her head, the gaiter still rolled up over her nose but the goggles settled on her head. “Yeah it is. You brought me here.”

Din doesn’t answer, blaster still raised. She glares over the edge of her neck gaiter. “I gave you an Amban pulse rifle that’s an illegal weapon you can’t buy anymore that’s definitely worth you taking me where ever you’re going.”

“I thought you didn’t know what it was?” Din mutters.

She shrugs stepping further into his ship. “You thought wrong.”

Din holsters his blaster frustratedly and stabs the panel beside him to close the rear tail gate. She throws her sack down in the cargo area and follows him up top to the cockpit settling back in her seat. Din settles Grogu in his seat and crashes heavily into the pilot’s chair, stabbing buttons with more force than necessary. They lift off the ground as the sun begins to peak over the horizon, cruising over Kes Dameron’s koyo fields, a small figure on a speeder bike waves enthusiastically before the ship crests upwards, exiting the atmosphere. Once in space Din plots the course and pulls back on the hyperdrive. There’s a pause and then the ship makes the jump to lightspeed, the world blurring around them to a mess of white and blue against black streaks.

“Where’d you get to last night?” she asks lazily once the ship settles into light speed. “I came back to the ship after dark but it was locked up so I slept underneath it.”

“Friends place,” Din answers shortly. Friends. Din surprised himself with the use of the word but then settles with it. Despite knowing him for less than twenty-four hours he’d consider Kes Dameron a friend. He seems to be collecting those recently.

“Lucky you,” she says tiredly. “Where are we headed?”

“Bothawui.”

There’s a pause. “Its New Republic, isn’t that a little risky in your field?”

Din doesn’t answer straightaway, checking the gauges on his ship. “Bothawui is an outer-Rim, a neutral planet and the espionage hub of the galaxy. If I’m going to find these people it’s a starting point.”

She mulls his words for a few moments. “Good point.” She’s quiet for a little longer, shrugging out of her coat and settling deeper into the chair. “Who are you looking for?”

“A spice runner.”

“Should have guessed,” she says dismissively.

It takes Din a moment to process what she meant, he was thinking about where on the planet he’d go and looks around at her. “No I don’t use the stuff. I need to meet a specific spice runner… for information.”

“I wasn’t judging.” Her eyes say another story.

Din turns back to his dash, annoyed. Some days he’d like someone here to talk to and then days like today when there is someone, he’d like to shoot them out the rubbish chute while still in hyperdrive. It wasn’t something he ever told anyone but he had never tried, nor had the desire to try spice- the galaxy’s favourite mind altering substance. He had been offered it plenty of times in cantinas and been offered a few jobs transporting it and even been offered camtonas of the stuff as payment, but refused every time. It wasn’t that he was a straight-edge, he drunk plenty of booze in his time to numb the edges of his lonely life but spice never appealed to him. He saw what addictions to the stuff did to people and he knew what the spice mines on Kessel were like and had no intention of supporting that trade. He also didn’t like being out of control of his senses and knew from experience he could still shoot straighter than a storm trooper under the influence to alcohol.

Din pulls up his map of Bothawui and begins to decide where to start. Definitely not the capital- Drev’starn, too big and too political. Briel looked to be the same, just a little smaller than the capital. On the western hemisphere were Covepi’starn and Dreel’starn. Din muses those names for a moment wondering if he should start out in the west where is seemed less densely populated, cities surrounded by more _kriffing_ jungle. He was almost starting to miss Tatoonie…

The good thing was, he mused, finding a spice dealer shouldn’t be too hard. Finding one who got their deliveries from a white Corellian freighter without drawing too much attention would be a different story. He absently wondered how much of a rep this Han Solo had. He’d never heard of him so he couldn’t be that great.

“So are you from Mandalore?” she asks breaking into his thoughts.

“No.”

“So you’re a ring in, like me to the rebellion,” she notes. “Figures.”

Din settles back in his seat watching the lights blue past him. “Last time I checked Corellia was a hard planet to get off unless you have credits, which almost no one has there. How’d you do it?”

“Hid in the hull of a cruiser I helped put together, they found me as they were exiting the atmosphere but felt sorry for me. Dropped me off on Kashyyyk which is where the freighter was being delivered to. There I made contact through the Wookies to the rebellion and the rest is history,” she answers shortly.

Din nods, mildly impressed. “And you?” she asks when he doesn’t answer.

“Swore the creed as a teenager after the Mandalorians saved my life and took me in as a foundling during the Clone Wars,” Din answers, forcing himself not to think about that day.

“Does anyone in the galaxy have parents or are we all kriffing orphans?” she mutters sarcastically. As if to answer, Grogu coos loudly.

Din pushes himself out of his seat. “I’m making some food do you want some,” he offers, not looking at her and picking up Grogu.

“Yes please,” her eyes light up and Din realises she must be hungry to not say something smart about his being nice to her.

Din reheats some food and takes it up to her before going back downstairs and making sure his back is to the closed hatch before pulling his helmet off. As usually Grogu is determined to wear as much food as a fifty-year old toddler can achieve. It weirds Din out some days that his kid is older than him by a bit and yet is a mostly helpless toddler. Mostly. Not entirely. The kid has pulled some mind-bending feats which is amazing considering he had apparently been supressing his abilities to survive. What would he be capable of if he didn’t? Where would Grogu be and what would he be doing if the Empire never happened?

 _Where would I be and what would I be doing if the Empire never happened?_ Din thought wryly to himself.

Din had finished his food and was cleaning Grogu up when he hears his passenger moving around up top. Dropping his helmet in place, Din picks up the plate and sticks it in the sink with the other dirty dishes as his passenger slides down the ladder. She spots the sink and wordlessly begins cleaning them which surprises Din a little, watching her from behind.

“So the kid knows what you look like under there,” she says eventually.

“By creed he’s my child so yes.”

“Has anyone else?” she asks curiously.

“A room full of Imperial Stormtroopers but they died soon after,” Din replies, deliberately leaving Mayfield out of it.

She looks around slowly, her eyes wide. “Damn. You guys take the creed seriously.”

Din realises how she has taken that statement and decides to let her think he killed them because they saw his face. Truth be told, he would have happily walked out of the refinery on Morak without killing anyone but Mayfield had some bad blood to contend with. In saying that, Din had no idea what they were powering with all that rhydonium, he just hoped they had thrown a significant spanner in the works. Absently, Din wondered where Mayfield was these days. He definitely would have gotten off Morak somehow, but where he’d gone after that Din wasn’t sure.

Din watches her finishing the dishes and desperately wants to ask about the neck gaiter. He hasn’t seen it come down and is by this stage convinced there’s a reason for it. Is she wanted? Is there a chance he could recognise her face? Din mentally scratches through all the bounty’s he’s brought in and there weren’t many human females among them. One? No two. There was the rich daddy’s girl from Naboo and then runaway concubine of somebody important who Din pulled a catch and release program with. He realised very quickly she was a former slave and had no intention of taking her to her former masters.

 _Maybe I have always been soft_ , Din wonders to himself.

Din silently heads up the ladder with Grogu tucked under his chin holding onto his cape and settles him in the passenger seat. Is she the concubine turned rogue archer? Din checks his readout that they are nearing their destination and decides she can’t be. That was only two? No three years ago and that young lady was barely twenty years old at the time and his passenger he estimated was closer to his age and served in the rebellion. So, who was she then? And why the almost Death Watch levels of secrecy about her face? And he didn’t know her name, she had never offered it. It hadn’t bothered him until now, he hadn’t asked so he didn’t have to tell her his name, but now he wondered if he’d recognize the name.

She appears up the ladder behind him, closes the hatch and settles in her seat as he instructs her they’re about to leave hyperdrive. The ship pops out of hyperdrive in front of the planet and two waiting X-Wings with New Republic markings. Din sucked in a breath. This ship was a lot more legal than the Razor Crest and still clean, not attached to a known Bounty Hunter but he was still a wanted with a force sensitive green child and-

Din looks around as she drops to the floor and crawls under his dash beside his knee. “Can I help you?” he demands.

“I’m not here,” she hisses up at him as his dash lights up with incoming communication.

“Bothawui is restricted air space under New Empire jurisdiction. State your business,” demands the male, older sounding X-Wing pilot.

“I’m a freighter, travelling to the Western side of the planet, looking to refuel and restock,” Din offers hesitantly.

“Affirmative. I’ll need you to send me a ping,” he responds, the two X-Wings hovering in front of him in attack mode.

Din hesitated and then reached down and flicked the switch on his dash. If Paula had done her job right on Tatoonie, the ping would transmit that it was a clean ship, still in the name of the previous owner not Din Djarin. The previous owner was the Mythrol currently chained to Greef Karga’s desk for the next a hundred years doing his paperwork. He had nothing to do with the acquisition of this ship but was clean enough to have a ship under his name and not arouse suspicion.

“I’ve never seen a Mandalorian Mythrol before,” the X-Wing fighter mused, clearly able to see just enough of Din over the dash through the windscreen. Din cringed almost visibly; it wasn’t as bad as the stormtrooper outfit but it was a close second being called a Mythrol. “Nice to see them branching out. Our logs indicate you have come from Yavin 4. We are looking for an assassin who murdered a former Coruscant businessman turned War Lord hiding out on Yavin 4. Her name is Jaina Tharan, human, thirty-five years old standing five foot eleven inches tall. Victim was shot through a window with a bow and arrow. We think she may have escaped off world.”

Din stared straight ahead, perfectly still as Jaina Tharan stared up at him from under his dash, pleading with deep brown eyes. “I’ll be sure to alert authorities if I see anyone matching the description,” he said levelly after what felt like an age.

“You didn’t see anyone matching that description on Yavin?”

“I was there less than twenty-four hours and slept for most of it,” Din replies. Which is true.

“Understood. May the Force be with you, please proceed,” the two X-Wings parted allowing Din’s ship the move between them towards the planet. Under the dash, Jaina let out a pent-up breath before crawling back across the floor and back into her seat.

“I see you found who you were looking for on Yavin,” Din muttered eventually.

“I did.”

Din didn’t answer for a long time, he was in no place to judge he had brought enough clients in cold- once or twice in pieces- to Greef Karga to not have a leg to stand on. Generally, though he liked to be paid for live bounty and it was a lot less risky since the New Republic came to power. He also hadn’t been trapped on a jungle planet for four years, plotting revenge against the war lord who left her there for dead. It took him awhile but he realised his conflicted feelings were because of Grogu, he didn’t want to get into any more trouble than necessary to keep him safe. Two years ago, he wouldn’t have cared what she did or who she killed. But then two years ago he wouldn’t have taken her on as a passenger anyway and she’d still be on Felucia.

Din took a deep breath, steering the ship over the surface of the planet telling himself he’d soon be rid of his passenger. They touched down outside of Dreel’starn, Din powering the ship down aware she hadn’t moved out of her seat yet. When everything was turned off, she finally stood, slowly pulling on her coat.

“Thank you, for not turning me in,” she said eventually.

“Don’t mention it,” Din mutters tiredly. He turns his seat to pick up Grogu whose arms are already outstretched.

“Well, I hope our paths cross again,” she says hesitantly before letting herself out into the cargo area. Din waits before she’s gone to mutter “I don’t.”

By the time he’s reached the cargo area she’s gone, the cargo door open giving a view of the edges of the small city that’s bustling through the mid-afternoon. Din sets Grogu down on a crate of ammo shells for the cannons and checks the plant. Still alive. He carefully tips some water onto the soil, hoping that the unnatural cool air of the ship doesn’t kill it. He then sets the Amban blaster down beside Grogu and begins pulling it apart. While he’d prefer a Mandalorian Armourer to forge a new loading mechanism, if he can find a weapon maker on this world he’d rather have a working pulse rifle than not. It takes him fifteen minutes to get it apart in which time Grogu has interfered with his work more than a dozen time with his grabby little claws. With the offending part in hand, Din tucks the kid in his carrier and the part in a pocket and sets off to find the Spice runner who married a Princess.

Dreel’starn is like a lot of Outer Rim cities, a mish-mash of different races all trying to make their way in the galaxy, earn credits, raise their families. Din finds a vendor selling fried frog legs which Grogu is more than thrilled about grabbing the bag greedily from Din’s hand and immediately jamming them in his face. Din shakes his head. Why frogs? He would- and has- eaten a whole range of things but frogs weren’t one of them. Din pays the vendor and turns to assess the market place trying to get his bearings. There seems to be a high population of Twi’leks in this city which Din has mixed feelings about, native Bothan’s, ugnaughts, droids galore, humans and one lone wookie sauntering through the crowd, head and shoulders above everyone else with a small human child riding on his shoulders. Din watches them for a moment, thinking if he was a kid that would be the best place see the world from- the shoulders of a wookie.

Din found three Spice dealers before night fall but none got their supply from a white Corellian freighter. One directed him to a weapons dealer, an ugnaught who painfully reminded him of Kuill. As soon as Din realised he was a ugnaught weapons maker, he returned with the pulse rifle for him to repair. The ugnaught took one look at the rifle, asked no questions and said he’d have it repaired in a couple of days. Din thanked him and paid extra, next to a Mandalorian armourer he knew an ugnaughts work was a close second.

Back at the ship Din settled the already sleeping Grogu in his hammock and closed the hatch of his bunk before pulling his helmet off. It had been a while since he thought about Kuill and it hurt. Without hesitation that old ugnaught lay down his life for the child after decades of slavery to the Empire and freedom he only just gained. Helplessness. There was that horrible feeling again. Helplessness that he couldn’t protect a friend. Din tiredly made himself some food and sat down heavily on a crate feeling more than middle-aged. How many more friends would lay down their lives before this child was safe?

Safe. What did that word even mean? Not in current danger? Not in any danger at all? Was that even possible? Din knew the Empire was back, they never really left and the New Republic was a sham. That was evident by these mornings run in. Useless. Worse than useless even. Was there anywhere in the galaxy where the Empire hadn’t touched?

Din knew he didn’t have answers and that he was tired. Tired of running. He hadn’t stopped moving the day he became a Guild Bounty Hunter, always moving from one job to the next without a moment thought and it didn’t used to bother him. There was a time he loved the constancy, the fact Greef Karga always had work for him and that he was never still for more than five minutes. Din didn’t have to ask; he knew the child is what changed his viewpoint on life. That little green bundle of frog devouring adorableness had completely upended his life and while he wouldn’t trade it for a second, he was starting to think long term, maybe for the first time in his life and felt unmoored like a broken ship floating through the emptiness of space.

Before Grogu, Din knew that any job could be his last and he could be easily killed on the job and was ok with it. If he wound up a pile of bones covered by the sands of Tatoonie or the snow of Hoth then that was it. No one would mourn him, no one would miss him. His family were all dead and maybe Greef would wonder what happened to that shiny Mando in a full suit of Beskar but that would be about it. Everything would come to an abrupt end and that would be it. But now… now it was different. If he died who would care for Grogu? Protect him from the Empire that hunted him?

That moment in the cantina on Nevarro as it was engulfed by flames, Cara Dune leaning over him- Din really thought that was it. That was the moment his dramatic and often dangerous life was coming to an end and he remembered being almost ok with it. Grogu carefully tucked in Cara’s muscular arms he knew she’d get him safely to a covert where his kind would take him in no questions asked. Of course, he didn’t die but for a bit there he really did think that was it. What if he faced another moment like that and didn’t have Cara Dune or someone else to entrust the child to?

Din got up and cleaned his bowl in the sink before bracing his arms against the edge, breathing heavily. He needed to figure something out. No more of this ‘go to this person’ who says ‘if you find that person’ who then sends you on side quest. He needed a plan.

Din stayed two days on Dreel’starn, mostly waiting for his pulse rifle to be repaired and in the meantime deciding there was nothing for him here. There were plenty of spice dealers here but none had seen a white Corellian freighter or heard of a Han Solo. Din collected the fully functional rifle that had even been polished and a new shoulder strap attached before moving under the cover of the darkness to the other side of the planet A spice dealer he met assured him it wasn’t as well patrolled by New Empire as the capital and its where most spice landed from off-world.

Din felt a little less unmoored the following morning with Grogu in his carrier on his hip and the pulse rifle slung over his shoulder. The familiar weight of it on his shoulder felt good, like a missing limb being reattached. He also found the shells for them and reattached the holster for them to the top of his right boot. The hatch of the ship closed behind him as Din Djarin headed out into the outskirts of Briel.

The Bothan spy net was second to none but Din had never really employed it purely because the various clans were at each other’s throats and some were known supporters of the Empire. For Din that was too much of a risk. That’s not to say he hadn’t brought in a couple of Bothan’s wanted for crossing the wrong people or had fished for information among a few in cantinas not in the world but this was the first time he found himself among so many of the race and wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He was aware of their eyes following him as he moved through the outskirts of the city through its slummier areas before slipping into a dimly lit cantina in the shadow of a public building of sorts.

The female of the race behind the bar eyed him up and down, carefully cleaning the glass with a rag. “What do you want stranger?” she asks. “Alcohol, spice, information or something else?”

“Information,” Din internally shudders at the ‘something else.’ Beauty, especially in the galaxy is very subjective but Din could see nothing attractive about the Bothan race. “I’m looking for a specific spice runner who has a rare brand of spice I have been instructed to bring to a high paying client. He flies a white Corellian freighter,” Din says repeating the story he had been spinning.

“He must be high paying if he’s got a Bounty hunter after it,” she muses. “The purest spice comes direct from Kessel. If you take a seat, I can put you in contact with someone who may be able to help.”

Din nods his thanks, orders a bowl of broth for Grogu and heads down to the back of the cantina passing just one lone figure hunched under a robe. The cantina is primarily made up of poorly lit booths and he settles in one against a back wall near a doorway as the waitress brings the bowl of broth for Grogu who eyes it suspiciously. It has been weeks since the calamari leapt of out his soup and latched onto his face but Grogu hasn’t forgotten and now all soup gets treated with the same suspicion. Eventually hunger takes over and he tucks in, making a mess once again.

It takes a suspiciously short amount of time for the Bothan to contact her possible lead and when Din sees four Bothans walk through the door his heart sinks with the premonition that these Bothans mean trouble. Din watched the waitress point down the back of the Cantina to where he is sat and disappear around the side of the display where the escape hatch probably is. Din carefully picks Grogu up, settles him in his bag and leans back unclipping his holster. The four Bothan’s are heavily built males, muscular wearing armous plates and each with a holster on their hip carrying small but powerful blasters.

“We hear you’re looking for a spice runner,” says the leader.

“That’s correct.”

He smiles but its more of a snarl showing canine teeth. “The Guild has no jurisdiction in Bothan.” 

“I’m not here on guild business,” Din replies.

“So you’re a liar and killer?” says the other to which they snicker.

“How much do you think his beskar is worth?” the leader asks thoughtfully.

Din’s fingers had closed around the handle of his blaster when the red bolt flashed across the cantina from behind the Bothan’s dropping the leader. The other three whip around in shock, firing at the stranger under the robe as Din drops two of them at close range and the stranger drops the last before sprinting towards them, jumping over their bodies.

“Time to leave before the rest of the hunting party-“ the stranger begins seconds before the cantina erupted into blaster bolts from the doorway. Bottles explodes and glass shatters everywhere as Grogu cries out in fear from his carrier.

Din snatches Grogu off the seat and slings the carrier over his shoulder, sprinting after the stranger whose dived out the backdoor. The alleys wind and double back, lothcats scattering out from under crates as Din runs after the stranger who seems to know where he’s going. Behind him he can hear the Bothan’s giving chase and already he’s feeling puffed. Din avoids running if he can, its tiring under the weight of his beskar no matter how fit he is. Din manages a few shots over his shoulder as the stranger darts into a narrow alley way and grabs his arm pulling him in beside him. The pair stand panting in the semi-darkness when Grogu suddenly pipes up from the bag. Din hurriedly shushes him.

“What the hell is that?” the stranger hisses under the hood.

Din dosnt answer, still gasping for breath as the Bothan’s go sprinting past yelling. The stranger looks around and watches them leave, cautiously leaning out of their hiding spot. He waits for them to get out of sight before motioning to head down the narrow alleyway in the opposite direction. Din readjusts the carrier on his shoulder and leads the way through the dank, semi-dark alleyway.

“You’re lucky I was there, those Bothan’s are ex-Imperial spies who definitely would have shot you and stripped you for your beskar,” the stranger says behind him.

“I took down two of them.”

“Yeah but I shot first,” reminds the stranger.

Din turns to ask the stranger who he is and why he helped him when suddenly the Bothan’s reappear at the bottom of the alleyway yelling. Din takes off as the stranger shoots a few shots over his shoulder and sprints after him.

“My ship is this way!” he yells, shoving past the winded Din as they burst out into a vacant lot that backs onto jungle.

Din’s nearly slows until he hears blaster fire behind him as he comes face to face with a white Corellian freighter parked in the tall grass. The tail gate is down and a wookie hurries down the ramp, sees the two men running towards him and grabs a weapon and starts firing past them. Din by this stage can barely breath and only just makes it up the ramp, the wookie roughly shoving him inside the ship as Din collapses on the ground with a metallic clan, careful not to land on Grogu.

“Get us out of here!” the stranger yells at the Wookie raises the rear tail gate. The stranger heaves a sigh of relief as blaster fire pings off the outside of the ship as Din gasps for air, with a stitch that feels like a dagger under his ribs. Above his laboured breathing however, Din hears the unmistakable click of the safety coming off a blaster and looks up, staring down the barrel of the stranger’s blaster. Din leans back heavily against the crate, staring through his visor at the stranger as the ship shudders off the ground.

“You must be Han Solo,” he breathes as cargo shifts around the hull of the ship as it rises quickly into the atmosphere.

“You got a fob on me? Because there’s only one way this ending,” Han Solo replies levelly.

Din coughs heavily, his throat dry and screaming for water. “No.”

“Then what. Heard you asking for a special spice dealer in a white Corellian freighter, which by the way I don’t do that anymore. You Imperial?” the blaster hasn’t moved.

“Dad? What’s going on?”

Both Han and Din’s heads snap around as a sleepy-eyed boy of about six or seven stumbles out into the light from the cargo area. The kid stops, staring between them like he isn’t sure if he’s still dreaming as his Dad stands over a Mandalorian with a blaster pointed at him and then his eyes fall on Grogu. Grogu pokes his head out of the carrier and looks at the kid, his ears moving up and down before he says his first, clear, unmistakable human word.

“Ben.”

Din’s head snaps back down to Grogu in stunned silence almost wondering if he imagined it. Did Grogu say his first actual word and it was this kids name? Han’s blaster lowers as Ben and Grogu stare at one another with… recognition. Han looks between them, blinking, slowly holstering his blaster like he can’t believe what’s happening. Ben crouches down as Grogu clambers over Din’s leg, his claws scraping on the beskar and waddles across the floor to the kid, gurgling happily before sitting down with a flop. Din can tell instantly there’s a connection which means this kid is-

“He’s special… isn’t he?” Han says softly as Ben sits down, his big eyes wide and with a boyish grin across his face.

“I’ve been instructed to bring him to a Jedi. Is he…?” Din points at the kid, Ben his name must be, unsure because he seems too young.

Han offers Din a hand to pull himself up. Din stares at the outstretched hand that moments ago was ready to shoot him before grabbing on and hauling himself up. The two men stare down in silence at their sons, Grogu gurgling and cooing and the occasional giggle from Ben. He’s a cute kid Din notes, all hair and big eyes set into a fair face. The Wookie lets himself down the ladder from the cockpit and ambles over, looming over the pair of them as Din realises this is the same pair he saw in Dreel’starn walking through the marketplace. The Wookie speaks to Han in his language, one that Din has never learnt as he’s never dealt with many Wookie’s in his time.

“He what?” Han stares at the Wookie.

The Wookie continues, motioning at Grogu with growls and low noises. Han turns to Din. “Chewie wants to know where you got him and how dare you treat him like a pet?”

“He’s not my pet he’s my son by creed and I am trying to take him back to the Jedi,” he replies tersely.

“By creed?” Han stares at him as the Wookie makes more noises, gesturing wildly with a shaggy arm. “He says this kid looks like Master Yoda a Jedi he knew on Kashayyyk and can’t be your son by creed or otherwise.”

Din sighs frustratedly and tersely relays how Grogu came to be in his care, that he came from the Jedi Temple on Coruscant and by Mandalorian creed is now a foundling in his care, aware that the Wookie could speak English just obviously not speak it. He abbreviates as much as possible but doesn’t leave out that Grogu was stolen by the Empire and he got him back. A long silence hangs when he finishes speaking, the smuggler, the Mandalorian and the Wookie watching the two kids chattering on the floor. The Wookie eventually breaks the silence making a few quiet growling noises at Han who nods absently.

“Can you watch them for a bit buddy,” he says to the Wookie, “I need a word with our shiny friend here.”

Din hesitates for a moment, watching the Wookie settle on the ground beside them. Grogu leaves Ben and waddles over to the Wookie who immediately scoops him up making friendly growling noises. Han drops a hand on Din’s shoulder which makes him jump slightly.

“They’ll be fine, come up to the cockpit with me.”

Din hesitantly leaves them, by now Ben has crawled into the Wookie’s lap as well chatting away in a mixture of English and Wookie. Han tiredly saunters up to the ladder, shrugging out of his cloak and dropping it over a crate before scrambling up the ladder. In the cockpit, Din finds him sat in the captain’s chair, chin resting in the heel of his hand, his eyes far away. Outside the curved windscreen, Bothawui hangs below them- a glittering green planet with a fair amount of traffic entering and exiting the atmosphere. Deep space looms overwhelmingly with the planet Kothlis visible in the distance.

“Plenty of war lords have got their grubby hands on Empire stuff, it doesn’t mean they Empire is back,” he says flatly but even Din can hear the hollowness in his voice.

“Moff Gideon is a former ISB Officer who enacted the Mandalorian Purge. I’ve had enough run in’s recently to know they are back,” Din says settling in the co-pilots seat facing him.

“Dang farrik.”

Din doesn’t answer. Han leans his head back against the chair, eyes closed and groans. “I knew Endor was too easy. I knew they weren’t gone but Luke… Luke said they were gone. Said he could feel it in the Force. Maybe because I am such a sceptic, I knew that killing its two primary instigators wouldn’t remove generations of evil.”

“Its Luke Skywalker I seek. I have been tasked to take Grogu to a Jedi to train him.”

Han turns his head and looks at Din. “Don’t count on it.”

“Because of the Jedi Purge?” Din offers. _Not again_ , he thinks.

Han shrugs. “Not just that. Luke is… Luke. If you meet him, you’ll understand. Leia has wanted him to take on Ben as a padawan since the day that kid was born but we can’t nail him down.”

“Ben has abilities?” Din asks, knowing the answer is yes but curious if they’re the same as Grogu’s.

“Abilities,” Han scoffs. “Freaking kid could lift objects with the Force before he could walk. Scared the crap outta me first time he did it. We’ve convinced him not to pull Jedi crap in public, for safety reasons but at home? Little womp rat…”

Din finds himself grinning, understanding that feeling all to well. “Grogu stopped a Mudhorn from killing me by hanging it in mid-air. Stopped a flame thrower. Healed people from life threatening injuries.”

Han is staring wide eyed. “Jeez not even Benny has pulled some of those stunts. I’d be making a mess in my pants if he did.”

The pair are silent for a little longer, Din watching Han stare out into space and seeing a little of himself in the other man. Different stories, same crossover point. Eventually Han looks back.

“There’s no way I’ll convince his mother the Empire is back.”

“Princess Leia of Alderaan?”

Han nods. “That’s her. Most amazing woman I’ve ever met, can’t believe she tolerates being seen with me in public. And gave me a son. She’s in Drev’Starn at the moment on political business. I was quietly running jobs- LEGAL jobs- and waiting for a client until you showed up. I wouldn’t be shocked if the Hutt’s still want my head which is why I thought you had a fob on me.”

“I need to at least find Luke,” Din persists.

Han looks away again. “There’s the bad news… I got no idea where Luke is. Endor finished, Leia and I settled on Chandrila so she could follow her political career, Ben was a bit of a surprise and Luke went off in search of… I don’t know what actually. Other Jedi? The Force? Who knows? I don’t that’s for sure.”

“You don’t… you’re not force capable?” Din isn’t sure how to word that question.

Han scoffs. “Definitely not, I can barely read let alone use the force.”

Din watches as Han turns his head away and stares out into space. “Would Leia know where Luke is?”

Han doesn’t answer but motions with one hand limply. Annoyed, Din persists. “Can you get me an audience with her?”

Han doesn’t look back but snorts. “Wouldn’t we all like an audience with her…”

Din glares through his visor until Han finally looks around and sighs. “Yeah, alright… don’t expect miracles.”

Din follows Han down below deck to inform his co-pilot whose name is Chewbacca but has been unceremoniously cut short to Chewie of the change in plans. Both Grogu and Ben are cuddled up to Wookie, Grogu very much asleep and Ben fighting it, blinking up at them with a sleepy smile. Han whispers out that they are going back into town to find Leia to which the Wookie growls a response. Han mutters something that Din doesn’t quite catch but sounds like “you and me both.”

Its well after dark by the time Han leads Din through the gates of a flash looking, two storey apartment in Drev’Starn, through the back gate into the manicured garden. From here Din can see down a row of nearly identical looking back yards of wealthy people, likely politicians and squirms, very much out of his comfort zone. Din looks back at the Wookie whose trailing behind him with Ben in the crook of one arm and Grogu in his sling around his neck. Din tried to get Grogu into his carrier but it seems the little womp rat wanted to ride with his new friend on the Wookie express. As Han unlocks the backdoor, Din realises he’s jealous, not used to his son wanting to hang out with other people.

The house is dark as Han fumbles for a light on the wall muttering obscenities. The light flicks on revealing a beautifully decorated living room and a woman sat in chair facing them with a glare that could melt Hoth in an instant. Han seems to shrink beside him.

“Honey we’re home,” he tries to cry cheerfully but even Din can hear the cringe in his voice.

“Do you have any idea how late it is?” her voice deadly calm revealing just how furious she was. She stands slowly, fists clenched, her white silk dressing gown pooling around her.

Din decides this must be the Princess herself and she is not what he expected. He envisioned delicate, subtle, refined and while she is beautiful and her hair which is plaited into two looped coils is immaculate, she looks… formidable. While she looks very much in place here in an expensive apartment, Din could just as easily imagine her commanding the Rebellion out on the battlefield. Her eyes are narrow gimlets set into a beautifully featured face with high cheekbones and a pointed nose.

“Hey sorry darling, I ran into a little trouble,” Han steps forward, hands splayed apologetically.

Leia snaps her gaze across to the Mandalorian. “How much is his bounty? I assume you think you can get more for him as a hostage than from whoever gave you his fob.”

Din falters. “No bounty.”

Leia glances between them. “Then what, you just thought you’d bring a Bounty Hunter home for dinner? Its nearly midnight Han! Ben should be in bed,” she rages pointing at her son when her eyes suddenly fall on Grogu whose poked his head out of the bag and coos at her. Din looks around and realises Ben is playing with a tuft of the Wookie’s hair, avoiding his parents arguing and feels his heart strings get tugged with the realisation that this must be a frequent occurrence. “What is that?”

Chewie answers with several low growls, head waggles and gestures of his free arm. Part way through the story, Leia’s shoulders visibly slump and her face softens. She glances at Din as the Wookie continues and without that vicious glare on her face, she is absolutely stunning. Leia drifts between the two men like a ghost, the folds of fabric trailing over Din’s boot as she stares up at Grogu who is well above her head even in the carrier and slowly reaches up to stroke Grogu’s ears. Din didn’t realise that Princess Leia is actually tiny even next to him never mind next to the Wookie.

“Hi Ma,” Ben says holding out his arms before dropping off the Wookie’s arm into his mothers with a giggle. Leia’s face breaks into a small smile as she cradles her son before looking around at Din.

“Is what Chewie said true? You were tasked to bring him in as a Bounty but went back and rescued him? And then you risked your life not once but twice to keep him safe from those who wanted him.”

“Yes.”

She’s gazing up at Din with an unreadable expression… admiration maybe? A dainty hand slowly strokes through Ben’s curls as he snuggles deeper into his mother’s arms. “An honourable Bounty Hunter… now I’ve heard it all.”

“I’ve been tasked to bring him to his own kind. I need to find Luke Skywalker,” Din asks firmly, determined to not be swayed by the obvious marital tensions you could cut with a knife.

She sighs, her lips pursing. “Yeah, so would I.”

“Can’t you, I dunno, send him a message through the Force?” Han offers.

“That’s not how the force works,” she snaps, the glare returning in place. She looks back at Din and sighs. “Let me put my son to bed, then I’ll be with you.”

Din endures a good twenty minutes sitting on the couch in the luxurious sitting room as Han sits in the chair looking like he too would rather be anywhere else. While Din can admit the Princesses obvious beauty, he can also see how these two are an odd, perhaps even doomed match. The Wookie on the other hand seems more than comfortable pottering around the adjoining kitchen, raiding the pantry and offering various bits of food to Grogu who is now sat on his shoulder. Din flinched at first when the Wookie first settled him up there but the kid seems to have surprising balance on the Wookie’s broad shoulders, clinging onto his fur and gurgling happily. 

“You from Mandalore?” Han asks suddenly, seemingly desperate to break the silence.

“No. I swore the creed as a teenager.”

“Huh,” Han seems surprised. “No offense I’ve had history with your kind and wound up in carbonite for my troubles. I figured it would be easier to kill you on my ship than out in broad daylight.”

“In front of your kid?” Din looks around at him.

“Says the Mandalorian with a kid strapped around his neck,” Han returns to which Din shrugs in acknowledgement.

“Are you from Alderaan as well?” Din asks after a pause.

Han scoffs. “Corellia originally, I cut my teeth running scams for some unfriendly people after my old man died, but the galaxy is full of those.”

“You’re the second person I’ve met from Corellia this week,” Din says absently, thinking of the Archer.

Han’s head suddenly snaps up. “Who was the first?”

“An Archer who I gave a ride from Felucia and dropped off in-“ Din is cut off by Han groaning the name ‘Jaina Tharan’.

“That’s the client I was waiting for. She wanted me to ferry her off world, we go back to Corellia days. We were both in the White Worms. Its funny we both ended up in the Resistance, just in two totally different ways,” Han explains.

“She murdered someone on Yavin 4, a businessman gone rogue from Coruscant who left her for dead on Felucia for four years,” Din explains.

“Four years? No I saw her two years ago on- hey Chewie when did we see Jaina on that planet, you know the desert one,” Han looks around. Chewie sticks his head out the kitchen and responds to which Han rolls his eyes. “Not that desert planet the one where Ben cut his foot open… Abafar! That’s the one. She was on Abafar two years ago working for a Rydonium dealer as muscle. I picked up a load of the stuff to deliver back to Chandrila.”

Din grits his teeth, fuming she lied to him and he bought it. He’s definitely losing his touch. Han senses this a grins. “Don’t feel bad, anything that makes it off Corellia is probably a liar, cheat, thief, murderer or all of the above. It’s not personal, its survival.”

Din doesn’t answer, watching Grogu riding around on the Wookie’s shoulder stuffing some sort of crackers in his mouth. If he threw them up, Din decided he’d personally use the Wookie’s fur to mop it up. Din is still fuming when Leia returns and sits down opposite him in an armchair with a curved back.

“Feet off the coffee table,” she says without looking at Han who begrudgingly removes his boot that had been resting on the coffee table. “I don’t know if I can put you in contact with my brother. I’m sorry.”

“Do you have any ideas?” Din asks hopefully.

Leia sighs. “There aren’t many Jedi left and the Empire made sure to destroy any remnants of the Jedi Order they found. Coruscant used to be a beautiful city with the temple as its crown but its now a dangerous place. Thython used to have a Jedi Temple but it was destroyed.”

“We’ve been there,” Din says, trying not to think about anything else that happened on that kriffing planet.

“He may have gone back to Dagobah, master Yoda who Chewie tells me looks like this little guy spent his final days there. He may have also gone to Ach-To the site of the first Jedi Temple, or Ilum where the Jedi Order was founded …” she trails off looking uncertain, “Or maybe he’s gone looking for Mortis.”

“Whats Mortis?” Han asks, like he hasn’t even heard of that planet.

“It’s a planet outside the known galaxy, completely uncharted territory. Many Jedi believe it’s the origin of the Force. But it can’t be visited, it calls you, you don’t go looking for it,” Leia explains looking over at her husband. “So, he could have been called by it, in which case you won’t find him until he leaves it.”

Din mentally files those names and tries not to feel frustrated. While he’s glad to have a few names to work with, the fact that Luke could be at any of them or none of them is beyond annoying. At least Bo-Katan could tell him exactly where Ahsoka Tano was and she was there. And Ahsoka Tana told him where the temple was and it was exactly where she said. The Mortis clue was the most frustrating. How could you visit a planet that can’t be visited that draws you? How does that even work?

The Wookie ambles in and sits down carefully beside the coffee table with an assortment of snacks. Grogu scrambles down his arm and sits on the coffee table as Din realises the snacks aren’t for the Wookie, they’re for Grogu who is currently being spoilt by the Wookie who is tempting him with all manner of goodies. Din restrains a frustrated sigh, as sweet as it is Din is having issues getting the kid to eat anything that’s not blue cookies and this walking shagpile carpet isn’t helping.

“I’m guessing he has abilities?” Leia breaks into Din’s thoughts.

“He might have more tricks than our little feral,” Han says. “Stopped a mud horn apparently.”

Leia’s eyes flick from Han to Din’s pauldron bearing the insignia and then back to Grogu. “Incredible. Who trained him? You?”

“The Mandalorians are not force sensitive,” Din replies.

Leia watches him for a moment. “That’s not strictly true. If my memory serves there was one, Tarre Vizsla, a Mandalorian who was also a Jedi. He was the first owner of the Dark Sabre.”

Din feels the breath catch in his chest. The Dark Sabre. That weapon was originally wielded by a force sensitive Mandalorian? How has he never heard about this before? Grogu accepts another cracker off Chewie, gleefully stuffing it in his face, crumbs tumbling down his clothes. This time the sigh escapes Din who forces himself to focus on Leia and not his kid.

“Have you found any other Jedi in your search?” Leia asks curiously.

“Just Ahsoka Tano. She wouldn’t take him on as a pupil but sent me to Tython so Grogu could choose his path, whatever that means,” Din replies shortly.

Leia looks mildly surprised. “Ahsoka Tano left the Jedi Order before the Empire came to power, she was the _padawan_ ,” Din notes the Princess stresses the word as if to correct him “of the Jedi who became Darth Vader. I am told she left because she saw flaws in the Jedi Order. Her leaving when she did, almost certainly saved her from the Jedi Purge.”

Din sits in silence for a while processing that information, he had heard how close Master and Padawan relationships were in the Jedi Order, not much difference between _buir_ and an _ad’ika_ , both were decades long commitments that ultimately produced warriors. To think that Ahsoka had been trained by one of the evillest minds of the Empire and was still… lovely? Din was at a loss to how that happened though he had been impressed with her military cunning when they planned their attack on the city so maybe he shouldn’t be that shocked.

“What happened on Tython?” Leia asks when Din is silent for a long time.

“I lost my ship and Grogu was taken from me by Moff Gideon,” Din replies eager to move on from that subject.

“No with the force. You took him to the ruins of the temple that’s there I presume?” Leia persists, her brow furrowing slightly in annoyance.

“I sat him on the rock where he played with butterflies for a bit before a blue force field appeared around him. Then Boba Fett and Fennce Shand showed up and-“ Din begins.

“Who showed up?” Han is suddenly very much awake; the Wookie looks up with a growl and even Leia startles.

“Boba Fett?” Din looks between them.

“He’s dead!” Han yells looking almost panicked as Leia shushes him, pointing up to remind him his son is asleep upstairs.

“This family has a history with Boba Fett,” Leia explains. “We all saw him end up in a Sarlacc pit on Tatoonie. Are you certain its Boba Fett?”

“Don’t forget he froze me in carbonite!” Han exclaims passionately to which Leia holds up a hand and nods.

Din restrains a sigh. “I’m certain.”

Han and Chewie look at each other, the Wookie growls something and Han laughs nervously. Leia ignores them both. “What happened after they showed up?”

Din makes a mental note to ask Fett about the Sarlacc pit next time he sees him. He’s also annoyed that he could have just asked Fett where to find Han Solo and saved himself some time. “The three of us fought off two carriers full of storm troopers and that’s when Moff Gideon sent the Dark Troopers who stole Grogu from the round rock.”

Leia processes this, Din aware that Han is now fidgeting in his seat over the news that Fett was alive and is vaguely amused. Grogu has finally stopped eating and has settled in the crook of the Wookie’s arm that’s resting on the coffee table. The Wookie begins eating Grogu’s leftovers, careful not to move his left arm as the kid gets sleepier.

“Grogu must have reached out to someone,” Leia muses more to herself than anyone. “But who?”

Din dosnt answer. Han shakes his head, looking uncomfortable. “Never mind that, how do you survive a kriffing sarlacc pit?”

Leia spares him a withering look before looking across the coffee table at Grogu. By now he is completely asleep, curled up in the crook of the Wookie’s arm. Its adorable but Din begins to wonder if he can gently sneak the kid into his carrier and get out of here. He has some names and some possible locations to start looking for this Luke Skywalker and he has to try. If he manages to nail Luke Skywalker’s feet to the floor maybe he can convince him to train Grogu. Maybe.

“Look at him,” Leia says softly. “Totally at peace and no idea how special he is or how many people would willingly see him killed for their own end. He is truly lucky to have you.”

Din dosnt answer watching Grogu sleep peacefully on the arm of a Wookie.


End file.
